“If you travel where most of the world manufactures denim, you end up with having rivers that are turning blue,” says the founder of the premium Canadian brand Dutil Denim, Erik Dickstein, in the environmental documentary RiverBlue (2016). This is not the natural blue of beautiful Instagram travel photos but rather the harsh ‘filter’ of insoluble Azo dyes and hazardous chemicals like mercury, cadmium and lead from the fabric dyes used in the fashion industry. These chemicals are killing marine life and creating chronic illnesses like cancer and sensory loss in people.

While today most of the mass-manufactured clothes are made with toxic chemical dyes, until the late 19th century all dyes were made naturally through plants, insects or shellfish—the art of natural dyeing thrived in the Indian subcontinent.

Indigo, sourced from the indigofera flowering plant, creates blues and greens and is considered ‘magical’ because it lends itself to a range of hues and all kinds of fibres. Santanu Das, for Kolkata-based sustainable label Maku, uses only natural indigo: “It is a difficult colour to work with, but it is also neutral and liked by all. It cannot be controlled—it is impossible to get an identical shade. That by itself is human and philosophical. It forces you to understand the limitations of a medium and craft and to take a step forward.”

While India has perfected colours like red and black—made from madder root and iron filings respectively—and in combination with other substances created hundreds of natural tints, Das believes that the natural shade card of India comprises “the seven different colours of white”. He adds, “We have a huge culture of wearing undyed things: dye is a luxury, as is pattern and printing.”

A number of Indian designers today have embraced kora (undyed) fabric and natural dyes as a part of their sustainable fashion initiatives as a manifesto, like Goa-based OmArts; as a part of capsule collections like Ahmedabad-based Tilla; or comprising a large portion of the collections, like Mumbai-based Anavila Misra’s linens (for label Anavila) which showcase undyed fabric or natural indigo, while other pieces use Azo-free chemical dyes.

Today, in India, centres and artisans in Kutch, Bengal, Goa, Pondicherry and Hyderabad among others are working with natural dyes. In the sustainable fashion collections showcased at Lakmé Fashion Week Summer/Resort ’18 under the Usha Silai label, Amit Vijaya and Richard Pandav teamed up with women who are known for their work in natural dyes from a region near Jaipur.

Rekha Bhati and Nikki Kali of Kishmish, who work with the NGO Kala Swaraj, believe, “Everything has energy. If the process of making a garment is thoughtful, with kindness to the planet, you can feel it when you wear it.” Besides being good for the environment, naturally-dyed fabrics are a healthier option. Kolkata-based designer Divya Sheth points out, “Dyes penetrate our bodies; natural dyes like those made from turmeric and madder are not only therapeutic but also nourish and replenish the skin.”

But a naturally-dyed garment is not without challenges. Das, who dyes yarn in his workshop before sending it out for weaving, says, “There are no shortcuts for natural dyes—people don’t like to use them because it is a nightmare to work with them. The colour bleeds and fades. They cannot retain the colour ever after.” Sheth, who uses natural dyeing for 85 percent of her textiles, agrees that the process is tricky. “There’s a scarcity of artists, it is a tedious and laborious (manual) process. The colours change batch wise — the inconsistency means that no two garments would ever be the same. As much as we love this, some unaware clients take this as a defect.”

Soham Dave for his eponymous Ahmedabad-based sustainable label that works with Kutch-based artisans for dyeing avoids chemical dyes as much as possible. He stresses upon thinking about the entire process of production over dyes in isolation. He admits that the natural dyeing process is more expensive, as it involves a lot of rejection and handling, with dependency on the unpredictability of nature—wind or pollutants in water may impact the production. He says, “I have not come across many successful ways to mass produce it.”

Scale perhaps is the biggest consideration of naturally-dyed garments, along with the considerable need for freshwater. Ruby Ghuznavi, activist and advocate for craft and natural dyes in Bangladesh, points out in a conversation with colour specialist Fiona Coleman in an interview on The Kindcraft, an independent online magazine, “There is a limit to the capacity you can produce. If you increase the capacity, there’s a danger you’ll lose the quality. And because we’re starting to make our colour solution from scratch every morning, there are a lot of points at which the process can go wrong. The minute you start making 1,000 pieces instead of 100, maybe one or two will not be colourfast.”

Designers like Aratrik Dev Varman of Tilla grapple with how a naturally-dyed garment is perceived in the market. Says Dev Varman, “You have to tell people to expect natural blemishes and fading of colours. It would be misleading to compare it to something that is chemically dyed in a factory. The challenge is educating and convincing people that despite all this, it is still a better product.” A consumer who has been conditioned to appreciate industrial homogenised products and accept it as the benchmark of perfection and quality is unlikely to embrace the uniqueness of a handmade, naturally-dyed garment which will age gracefully.

And yet, Coleman on The Kindcraft, perhaps referring to a more evolved British consumer with regard to sustainability, believes that education has changed customers and, if it is marketed as a natural product or a natural dye, the consumer would be happy to have that inconsistency. That may be a sign of things to come in India. In the standardised Pantone world of today, the variations that are seen in a naturally-dyed fabric are a call to celebrate the beauty of imperfections, just as nature would have it.

Brief Timeline Of Natural Dyes In The Indian Subcontinent

2600 BCE Natural dyeing techniques developed during the Indus Valley civilisation and spread worldwide through trade routes.
1498 Vasco da Gama discovered the maritime route to India. Indigo was the first valuable ‘spice’ to be exported by Portuguese traders.
Mughal Era (16th-18th centuries) Natural dyeing techniques developed finesse under the patronage of the Mughal emperors, who particularly loved indigo which gave the popular blues and greens.

The 19th century Bengal became the world’s main source of indigo.
1856 The discovery of aniline dyes by British scientist William Henry Perkin, and their spread to colonial countries. It led to post-independence India no longer retaining its tradition of natural dyes except in a few rural communities.
1859 Unjust production methods led to the Blue Mutiny during the British Raj.
1897 German company BASF launched the synthetic ‘Indigo Pure BASF’ in the market.
The 70s Kamaladevi Chattopadhyay initiated the movement for the revival and promotion of natural dyes in India (and Bangladesh).

1990 Activist and advocate for craft and natural dyes, Ruby Ghuznavi, started fair-trade organisation Aranya in Bangladesh, which has 3000 artisans.
2009 Dr Himadri Debnath, deputy director of the Botanical Survey of India (BSI) in Kolkata, found a unique 15-volume set (with 3500 samples) of Specimens of Fabrics Dyed with Indian Dyes compiled by British Victorian dyer Thomas Wardle, which was believed to have been lost.
2013 Colours of Nature, Auroville—which began manufacturing natural blue jeans with organic indigo dye and local cotton yarn in 1993 collaborated with Levi’s to launch the first truly organic 511 jeans.

— Compiled from Marg’s Colours of Nature: Dyes From The Indian Subcontinent (December 2013)

Published: Elle India, April 2018(Additional images and videos added to this post.)

Designers the world over are making a slow but steady shift towards sustainable fashion, but does the average consumer know what eco-friendly fashion really is?

The sobering 2017 documentary RiverBlue follows international river conservationist Mark Angelo as he brings into focus how some of the world’s key rivers are being destroyed by the mass manufacturing of clothing. Angelo asserts that any major global fashion brand uses approximately 28 trillion gallons of fresh water every year. And that hazardous chemicals like mercury, cadmium and lead from the fabric are polluting rivers that supply drinking water dyes that filter into them. These chemicals do not break down and travel around the world destroying aquatic life and causing damage to humans in the form of cancer and sensory loss.

As consumers, we tend to chase beauty over benefits: if it looks good, it couldn’t have harmed anything on its way. There are no aubergine-hued pollutants in the rivers, no underage children making those sensational ruffles, and no worker was paid inadequately to sew those pastel sequins on. Are we wrong, ignorant or simply apathetic? Perhaps all of the above. The True Cost, a film on the fashion industry, brings to the forefront the materialism that drives the economy of fashion, and the heavy price that is paid for cost-effective fast fashion. Parallelly, brands are voraciously driving new trends, while discounting the previous season’s styles. How many pairs of jeans is enough, when baggy or cropped is in one month, and skinny or bootleg fit next month’s #goals? “The consumer didn’t wake up one morning, saying, ‘I want to buy five pairs of jeans.’ We were literally introduced to this concept by the fashion industry,” a commentator in RiverBlue says.

It is clear then, that of the many things it is — expressive, cathartic, good for the economy, and great for Instagram — fashion is also dangerous to the planet. Thankfully, and finally, the industry is now paying heed to its potential legacy of environmental destruction. At Lakmé Fashion Week Summer/Resort (LFW S/R) 2018, Rajesh Pratap Singh used Tencel, a soft fabric made by Austrian textile group Lenzing. It is made from the plant cellulose of sustainably harvested trees in a ‘closed-loop’ production sequence that recycles almost 100 per cent of the solvent. Mumbai-based designer Anavila Misra (of Anavila) has made linen, created from fibres of the flax plant, shine in her subtle-hued saris. Guwahati’s Nandini Baruva (of Kirameki) uses sustainable fabric, made from banana and pineapple (pina fabric), and Eri silk (also known as Ahimsa silk) in her designs that are laced with an ethnic touch. Globally, eco-warrior designer Stella McCartney’s Falabella Go backpack, going strong since 2017, is created using recycled polyester fabric made from ocean plastic. VivoBarefoot’s shoes are made using algae biomass — each pair helps recirculate 57 gallons of filtered water back into natural habitats.

While high-street giants like H&M are exhorting you to ‘Rewear, Reuse, Recycle’, Kriti Tula, founder of upcycling relaxed fashion label Doodlage, is keen on waste-management: “Upcycling is the ethos of our brand. Each garment is created using industrial scrap, defective and end-of-the-line fabrics, which are all part of pre-consumer waste, and often end up in a landfill.”

Seven years ago, LFW began a dialogue on sustainable fashion and now dedicates a day to it each season, which focuses on grass-roots-level artisans and craftsmen, with enthusiastic participation from the country’s established and upcoming designers alike. Last season’s #RestartFashion show saw post-consumer waste-fabric makers team up with brands like Chola and Doodlage, while Craftmark by the All India Artisans And Craftworkers Welfare Association collaborated with designers like Anshu Arora, Hetal Shrivastav and Sonal Chitranshi, to showcase ethical garments that were handwoven without generating any waste.

Yvon Chouinard, founder of the outdoor gear label Patagonia, reminds his customers in The Usual, a New York-based publication with a focus on culture and the outdoors: “Think twice before you buy a product from us. Do you really need it or are you just bored, and want to buy something?” This echoes designer Santanu Das’s philosophy for his sustainable Kolkata-based brand, Maku. “Fashion is an industry, it responds to consumption patterns. You don’t need to go on a buying spree — even if the product is sustainable or organic.” Maku’s calls to action are the organic indigo dye and natural fabrics (that are essential to the brand) — its LFW S/R 2018 collection, In Transit, glorified indigo on khadi — and to limit the products on offer.

Image from Doodlage’s Instagram. Photo by: Tanvi Julka.

While fashion players are galvanising into action, consumers can and should do their part too. Gautam Vazirani, fashion curator, IMG Reliance, stresses on individual responsibility. “We are constantly trying to find the next cheapest sale, and we are not conscious about how much we really need,” he says. “In India, we are blessed with easily accessible sustainable fashion. For instance, a consumer can buy a sari made by a craftsman like Chaman Premji from Bhujodi village in Kutch that is handwoven with organic cotton and naturally dyed. Such fashion keeps the environment safe, and empowers the smallest producers in rural areas.” Today, with the rise of seasonless runways and unisex products and attire, we can make a difference by focusing on learning more about and investing in eco-friendly products and fabrics, and buying fewer but value-driven classics that will endure through time and trends.

Perhaps we should shop for a greener wardrobe because really, it is about making sustainable fashion fashionable. And that begins at home so that our heirlooms aren’t merely Chanel and Dior, but a habitable existence on earth. As Das points out, “Fashion cannot save the planet, you can.”